


an only child of the universe

by blithelybonny



Series: Soundwave and The Ace [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, Dating, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Surprises, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-30 11:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15095342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: The Ace works alone--everybody knows that, but nobody really knows why. When he slowly decides to open himself up again, he finds the team he never really knew he needed. But a rising power in Las Vegas threatens everything he's trying to build.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. With all the love and thanks to the #hellsquad (summerfrost and verbyna) for their cheer-reading, betaing, and general encouraging. Y'all are my rocks, and I appreciate you more than I can possibly say.
> 
> 2\. Tags will be added as I go to avoid spoiling the surprises too much, but please always feel free to reach out to me via tumblr (blithelybonny) if you have concerns or questions or want to be spoiled.
> 
> 3\. This is kind of a love letter to the genre, and closer in tone to Marvel than to DC. So you won't find too much dark and gritty here, but there will definitely be some twists and turns and manpain. ;)
> 
> 4\. Just to get it out of the way, yes, the Falconers are the villains in this story. I have zero intention of bashing them because I love the Falconers generally, but if you aren't interested in a story where they are the bad guys, definitely turn around now. No worries and no harm done. <3

Kent hadn’t looked up from his cereal in at least ten minutes. Normally his extreme lack of anything to say could be attributed to the early hour and the probable lack of caffeine (considering that the coffee-maker hadn’t been on when Adam came in), but this morning, Adam knew the actual cause of Kent’s quietude. Adam should probably let it go, though, knowing how reticent Kent got after missions that didn’t go exactly according to his plans.

Adam was not going to let it go.

“You know we’re gonna talk about this, right?” he said, as he took a seat across the kitchen table with his own bowl of Lucky Charms.

Kent gave almost no indication that he’d even heard Adam, except that Adam was extremely attuned, by now, to the often subtle (although also often extremely  _ not  _ subtle) language of Kent Parson. It was obvious in the way the tense line of Kent’s shoulders had tightened even more—a further straightening of the spine like he was bracing himself for an attack. Although actually, with Kent, it was more like the preparation to attack first; Kent hated being left on defense.

Adam waited until Kent had eaten another few bites of his clearly-soggy cereal, before he sighed and scooped up a huge spoonful. “Mr. Snow’s always given us trouble, my dude,” he said.

“Maybe if you’d let me use actual fucking bullets instead of that wax shit,” Kent offered—and maybe he really was tired because what normally might have been a snap that could slap a guy right across the face barely had enough volume to carry across the table.

“You know that’s not how we—”

“—I know,” Kent interrupted. He raised his free hand to scrub over his face with a sharp and frustrated exhale. “Fine, fine, maybe it could have fucking worked if—” He cut himself off with a bite to his lower lip that looked painful enough that Adam winced in sympathy and, after a long moment, returned his attention to his cereal bowl.

Adam frowned gently, glancing into his own bowl. “Never enough marshmallows,” he murmured.

“I think Rans takes most of them,” Kent said, before running his tongue over his bottom lip.

Adam snorted a laugh and replied, “Yeah, probably. Bigger sweet tooth than you, if that’s possible.”

“Everything’s  _ possible _ with him,” Kent replied, without any of Adam’s attempt at humor. “Except, apparently, letting me fucking do my job the best way I know how.”

“Hey!” Adam’s voice rose, but at Kent’s wince, he made himself breathe deeply in through his nose and exhale through his mouth, softening his tone to continue, “I know for a fact that killing people is not you doing your job ‘the best you know how’.”

Kent finally looked up at that, focused the whole of his attention on Adam’s face. His eyes were a weird sort of colorless shade in the mid-morning light streaming in through the parted curtains—gray for a moment, then blue, maybe, and back into something indefinable.  His cowlick stuck straight up, and Adam’s fingers twitched to reach out and smooth it down, even knowing that it’d jump right back up again like it always did. Kent’s lips twitched briefly into a smirk before settling back into an impassive line. “Agree to disagree,” he said, before pushing back from the table.

It was barely a conversation, but Adam found himself grateful that he’d gotten anything out of Kent at all after what happened last night. “We’re gonna come back to this,” Adam promised, watching Kent’s back as he went to drop his bowl off in the sink.

“Sure,” Kent answered, before he flipped a little piece of something over his left shoulder.

The yellow star landed perfectly in the dead-center of Adam’s spoon, and he smiled as he brought it to his lips.


	2. Chapter One

_ Rookies _ was pretty full for a Tuesday night, but the vibe was pretty annoyingly heterosexual, which was very disappointing to Kent Parson who had spent an interminable day at his boring accounting job trying to get a pair of clients to agree to dissolve a stubborn trust and therefore really wanted to spend an evening getting tipsy and singing karaoke with his favorite regulars at his fourth-favorite bar. He might have actually turned right back around and left once he’d made a quick circuit of the place, but Tony Tangredi (his sometimes-second, sometimes-least favorite bartender) had made him a perfect slow gin fizz, and Nakia Ford (his absolute favorite karaoke DJ) already had him queued up with Britney, so he figured it couldn’t hurt to stick around for at least a little while. He’d finish his drink, sing his jam, and then head back home to cuddle Kit into submission.

“Perfect plan, loser,” said Connor Whisk (Kent’s sometimes-first, sometimes-eighth favorite person to bitch with, especially when the fucking Straights were at it again). “So you’re just going to leave me here with Poots?”

Patrick Fitzgerald walked by at exactly that moment to flip Connor the bird while maintaining an excellent straight-face.

Kent laughed as he reached out to ruffle Connor’s hair. “You really gotta stop calling him that if you want another shot at that ass, bud,” he said.

“Pretty sure that’s not what I want, and you know it,  _ bud _ ,” Connor replied, and, to Kent’s utter lack of surprise, he turned toward the bar and looked longingly at Tony.

“Here’s a wild suggestion,” Kent said, drawing Connor’s attention back. “You could, oh I don’t know, ask him out?”

“Like it’s that fucking easy,” Connor replied, frowning a little into his beer.

Kent snort-laughed and said, “It is. Especially because you have the inside knowledge that he is as big a fan of dick as he is of snatch.”

Connor leveled Kent with a real Look. “Could you be any grosser?”

“Absolutely I could,” Kent teased, but then sighed gently and softened his tone on purpose. “Seriously though, why don’t you just go ask him out? I’m like a thousand percent positive that he’s going to say yes—and then ask you like four hundred questions about where you’re going and what you’re doing and when and how often you like being rimm—”

“—oh my God, Kenton, I take it back,” Connor interrupted, unable not to laugh however. “Get the hell out of here and go play with your ridiculous bitch of a cat!”

“ _ Next up we got Kenny, everybody!” _

Kent smirked, and said, “Can’t, babe, the public’s waiting for me.”

Connor shoved Kent up towards the stage with a loud groan, but, Kent was very pleased to see when he got up onto the little stage and waited for the song to start, he went over to the bar and leaned over a little to catch Tony’s attention.

“Sup, losers,” Kent greeted, raising his glass to the applause and catcalls he got in return. “This one’s dedicated to my best bro—oh shit— _ oh baby, baby… _ ”

Kent kept his eyes mostly on the crowd throughout his performance, as he obviously knew “Baby…One More Time” perfectly by heart. Most people seemed to be enjoying it solely as a solid piece of karaoke, but there was definitely one super tall and solidly built guy sitting at one of the highboys by himself and watching Kent with actual interest. So, if he turned on the charm a little bit more towards the end, moved his hips a little more than he might have done, he didn’t think he could be blamed.

“Thank you, Kenny, sexy af as usual,” said Nakia, once the song finished and Kent had taken his traditional four or five bows. “All right, next up, we have Mita and Sam…”

Kent made his way back to his table without detouring to the bar for a second drink, trusting that he’d made his point well enough. He was decidedly not disappointed when Tall Hot Guy approached just a few moments later with April Bay, one of the servers, right behind him, carrying a tray with two drinks.

“Hey,” the guy said, “could I…? He gestured to the empty seat at Kent’s side and smiled, a bashful kind of thing, like he had a ton of confidence, but also wasn’t super aware of how stupidly hot he was, nor how many of Kent’s attractiveness boxes he checked.

“Sure,” Kent agreed, gesturing to the chair and then taking his drink from April with a “thanks, babe,” that she rolled her eyes at, even as she grinned at him in approval.

“Thanks. I’m Jeff Troy,” he introduced himself, holding out a hand for Kent to shake. “And you’re Kenny?”

“Kent Parson,” Kent corrected. “Good to meet you, bro.”

“Kent, okay, yeah, good to meet you too. You were really great up there,” Jeff said.

“Nah, I’m all right, but thanks,” Kent replied. “And thanks for the drink…I mean, I assume that was from you, huh?”

Jeff nodded, his lips curving up in a small smile that was…really doing things for Kent. “Yeah, I figured it was the easiest excuse to talk to you.”

Kent was not exactly a stranger to getting hit on; he knew he was a good-looking guy, and although he hadn’t picked up all that much lately, he was pretty used to the kind of aggressive macho shit that most guys who looked like Jeff tried to pull with him. It was kind of refreshing, honestly, that Jeff seemed to genuinely be nervous about talking to him, although it was also entirely possible that he was pulling the bashful thing thinking it would lower Kent’s guard more easily.

He took a sip of his drink and then shrugged his shoulders. “Well, Jeff Troy, here you are, talking to me, who rocks out at Britney karaoke. What do you bring to the table?”

“Oh, wow, where to begin?” Jeff said. “Well, first, I’m an amateur juggler…”

Kent snorted into his drink, nearly getting some up his nose, as he quickly set it down and coughed out a laugh. “Oh my god, okay, yes, so you have excellent taste in sitcoms. Another point in your favor.”

“Ben and Leslie, five-ever,” Jeff replied, smiling that cute fucking smile again.

“I’m more of an April and Andy five-ever guy, but totally valid.” Kent offered a small smile of his own, and Jeff brightened even more.

“As long as you’re not pining over Mark Brandano-quits.”

Kent shook his head and smiled softly. “Nah,” he said, “I’m not really the pining type.”

** **

Jeff groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. “Shit, bud, you are really fucking good at this!”

“I know, right?” Kent picked up another dart and fired it straight down the middle to touch alongside his previous two bullseyes. They’d been playing for about half an hour—the place always tended to clear out a little once karaoke finished at midnight—and Kent had won all four of their games. Chuckling a little, he gestured over to the pool table that had emptied out of players in the last five minutes or so and added, “We could try your luck over there instead, if you want?”

Jeff grinned and rolled his eyes. “Somehow I get the feeling you’re going to kick my ass all over that pool table too.”

“I’ve got skills,” Kent said, waggling his eyebrows. “But, I mean, if you’re chicken…”

Jeff smirked at him and then clapped his hands in front of his chest, jumped from one leg to the other, kicking his knees up behind himself, and made a sound that couldn’t have sounded less like a chicken if he tried.

“Has anyone in this family ever seen a chicken?” Kent quoted, laughing breathlessly at Jeff’s spot-on GOB impression.

“C’mon Mr. Bullseye,” Jeff then said, slinging an arm around Kent’s shoulders and steering him towards the pool table, “it’d be my honor to have my ass whupped by you.”

Warm all over, Kent tried not to be too obvious about the way he burrowed a little closer into Jeff’s side, but he didn’t think he succeeded all that much, from the way that Jeff squeezed his upper arm a little and then slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth over the bare skin just below the sleeve of Kent’s tee-shirt. “It’s my honor,” Kent said, voice a little hoarser than he would have liked, “to whup that ass of yours.” With his free hand, he tossed the final dart back over his shoulder, as he looked up at the strong line of Jeff’s jaw. He didn’t need to look back to know that it had landed in the center of the three others, and Jeff’s face was definitely much prettier scenery.

“Rack ‘em,” Jeff then said, as they picked up their cues. “I’ll break…just to give myself a fighting chance.”

Kent grinned at him. “It’s cute that you think you’ve got a fighting chance.”

“You’re cute,” Jeff fired back immediately.

It was a nothing compliment, but it lit up Kent’s insides so much that he had to drop his face and focus very seriously on the task of racking the balls so as not to drop his cue and throw himself into Jeff’s arms for a kiss. It was…very possible that Kent had gone entirely too long since the last time he’d let himself connect with another guy beyond a quick hook-up in a bar bathroom or something equally as meaningless.

**“** Light it up, bro,” Kent then said, once everything was set and he felt like his face wasn’t going to totally betray him.

Jeff winked at him, and then bent over the table to shoot the break. One solid ball barely dribbled into the upper left corner pocket, and Jeff did a dorky little fist-pump at his waist before pointing at the middle left side pocket with his cue. “Number 7, right there.”

“Wanna bet?” Kent teased.

“Sure,” Jeff agreed, as he came around the table to stand next to Kent. “What do I get if I sink it?”

“Um…” Kent trailed off as he turned his face up to meet Jeff looking down at him, something soft and maybe a little bit knowing in his chocolate-brown eyes. Kent bit into his upper lip to try to keep himself from smiling too widely, but Jeff seemed to have so such qualms and grinned wide and bright. “Okay, if you sink that one, I guess I’ll just have to give you a kiss…I mean if that’s something you might wa—”

“—I could definitely agree to those terms,” Jeff eagerly interrupted him.

Kent laughed at that and then held out a hand for Jeff to shake on it. “And if or should I say when you miss,” he added, as Jeff slid his thumb over Kent’s knuckles when he pulled away in a way that absolutely did not make Kent shiver, thank you very much, “you have to do that little celly of yours and I get to put it all over social media.”

Jeff was lining up his shot, but he straightened up and gave Kent a look as he asked, “And just what exactly is wrong with my celly?”

“It’s super dorky, which I’m pretty sure you know,” Kent teased back, even as he slid over and stood right next to Jeff as he bent forward to line up his shot again. If he happened to get a nice glance at Jeff’s really excellent ass, well, again, Kent wasn’t sure he could be blamed.

Jeff flipped Kent the bird over his shoulder quickly, making Kent laugh again, and then took his shot. The number seven bounced hard off the side of the pocket and ricocheted back very nearly to knock the eight ball into the corner. Jeff groaned and flopped over the table. “Wait, wait, double or nothing!” he begged, eyes all wide and pleading and mouth curving up again into a smile that nearly made Kent’s knees buckle underneath himself.

Yeah, Kent definitely had a huge problem here.

“Okay, double or nothing. But here,” Kent said, as he came up behind Jeff and, after a brief moment of hesitation, rested one hand on Jeff’s right hip and the other stretching forward to guide the cue, “maybe a little insurance this time?”

“Oh yeah?” Jeff asked, eyes fixed on Kent’s lips.

“Yeah,” Kent replied, low and bending in towards Jeff’s ear, “I never miss.”

“ _ All right, nobody fuckin’ move! Get down on the ground and nobody has to get hurt!” _

“Shit!” Kent cursed at the same time Jeff cried out, “Goddamnit!” and they both ducked under the pool table for safety.

Across the bar, which really had emptied out significantly—time really flew when a stupidly cute guy with a ridiculously charming laugh and an awesomely goofy sense of humor made you feel like you were the only person in the universe—a trio of people dressed in (frankly, really tacky-looking) matching black jumpsuits with blue-and-gold domino masks and carrying small crossbows had Tony and April frozen with their hands up near the registers and the remaining patrons spread out and getting down on the ground as ordered.

“Who fucking robs a bar?” Kent hissed, as he surreptitiously glanced around the room for something he could use to disarm them.

“Actually,” Jeff said, “think about how much money a bar might have at the end of a night before they do a bank deposit the next morning…”

“Yeah, okay, fair point,” Kent admitted, “also, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Stay down,” Jeff murmured, as he slowly crawled out from under the table. “Don’t move until I come back for you, okay?”

“No, holy shit, what the fuck are you—”

“—Kent, please, just be quiet and wait there.” Jeff crouched down and leaned in under the table before continuing, just barely above a whisper and with his lips brushing tantalizingly against Kent’s own, “I really want that second shot.”

“Jeff—Jeff!  _ Jeff—erson?”  _ Kent whisper-shouted as Jeff began to stealth-walk towards the robbers. “Get the fuck back here, you’re going to get yourself—oh, holy fucking shit!”

Kent watched as Jeff raised his hands up one at a time and pulled them in towards his chest like he was gathering a big pile of chips he’d just won in a poker game, then thrust his hands back out again to push a huge gust of air at the trio.

“Fuck, it’s Swoops!” the tallest of the three cried out, before he was knocked backwards from the till the trio had been forcing Tony to empty.

Jeff pushed his hands down then and rose up in flight. He did a barrel roll in midair and then slammed down onto another of the trio, tackling him to the ground.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Kent grumbled to himself as he quickly climbed out from underneath the table. He grabbed a ball and chucked it at the third robber, who’d cocked her crossbow and looked intent on eliminating Jeff easily from the wrestling match he’d got into with the robber he’d tackled. The ball knocked the crossbow out of her hand easily, and when she turned towards Kent, he threw two more in quick succession, both of which caught her in the gut and doubled her over in pain.

“Kent, get down!” Jeff cried out suddenly; Kent dropped immediately into a crouch, just in time for an arrow to soar harmlessly over his head and embed itself in the wall behind him, then scrabbled his hand out behind himself to close his fingers around a few of the darts that Jeff had failed to land when they’d been playing earlier. They weren’t particularly sharp, of course, but in his more than capable hands, they’d be able to do some damage at least.

He popped up and tossed three darts at the first robber. “Ha!” Kent laughed, as the robber screamed and dropped his crossbow to put his hands up to his eyes. “Bullseye, ahahahah, get it?”

“Hilarious, bud,” Jeff said, through gritted teeth, as he continued to grapple with the second robber.

“Fuck you, man, I’m a regular comedian,” Kent called over. He grabbed a couple more balls from the pool table and hurled one at Jeff’s robber; Jeff rolled them over at a very unfortunate moment, but the ball knuckled up and down a little until it reached its target: the robber’s left cheekbone. He groaned loudly and fell back from Jeff, and Jeff used the opportunity to push himself back up into the air. “You’re welcome for the assist, by the way,” Kent added, as he watched Jeff fly over to the third robber, who’d finally managed to get up after the gut-punch, and wind-whip her over the bar. She landed with the loud crashing of a very expensive amount of broken bottles, and Kent winced. (Seriously, so much wasted booze!)

“Kent, can you collect Stone Cold Steve Austin over there for me?” Jeff asked, as he thrust another of those wind gusts at the first robber again, this time seeming to knock the man unconscious.

“The one I saved you from, you mean? Sure, bro, I got it,” Kent said, with a roll of his eyes. He did as he was asked, though, and dragged the guy over to the bar with the others.

Jeff seemed to have whipped up some kind of wind vortex that was circling rapidly around the two robbers as a restraint, so Kent shoved his guy into the middle and then went over to where Tony, April, and a couple other employees of the bar were ducked in the doorway to the back office.

“You good, Tango?” Kent asked, offering Tony a hand and tugging him gently out into the bar again.

“I…um…yeah, I think so,” Tony answered, looking dazed as he surveyed the damage and the super fucking weird image of a bunch of bad guys in the middle of a goddamned tornado. “We, uh, we have pretty good insurance anyway, I think.”

Kent managed a laugh from somewhere and clapped Tony on the back. “There ya go, man. No worries.”

“I’m going to call the police,” April then said, as Jeff walked over to them, one hand trailing behind himself presumably to keep the tornado spinning. “I mean, um, will that thing hold until they get here?”

“Depends on how fast, but I don’t mind sticking around until they’re close. You got a back entrance or something I can duck out through when they do, though?” Jeff replied.

April nodded and then went back into the office to make the call.

“Would you want to—”

“—so you’re a Super too, huh?”

Jeff shrugged, a small smile coming to his lips. “Looks like it, eh?”

Kent sighed gently. “Yeah…‘course you are.”

Jeff cocked his head and his smile faded a little. The whipping wind seemed to lose a little of its steam, but then he turned to face it again, raised both hands and strengthened it with a gentle push forward. “Is that, um, a problem or something?” he asked, glancing behind himself at Kent.

“Problem? Nah, no big,” Kent answered. “I’ll catch you around though, man. Gonna split.”

“Wait! Wait, Kent, I, uh—”

“—later, bud,” Kent called over his shoulder, as he ducked into the back office, brushed past April on the phone, and slipped out the back door into the alley to head back to his apartment.

** **

The apartment was pitch-dark when Kent got home, which meant that his roommate had once again spent the night at his girlfriend’s place, and which also meant that Kit scared the daylights out of him when she blinked over at him from down the hallway. “Jesus-fuck!” he cried out, falling back against the door and nearly braining himself.

She meandered closer until she was just at his feet. Kent slumped down until he was sitting, and she carefully picked her way up onto his lap.

“I made a mistake tonight, babygirl,” he then said quietly, as he ran his fingers gently through her fur.

“Who you fuck this time?”

“JESUS!”

“No, just me,” said Andre Skripchenko’s voice. “Or…you fucked Jesus?”

“I didn’t fuck anybody, Scraps,” Kent answered, as he willed his heart to stop beating so fast. “And also, literally how many fucking times do I have to ask you to turn a fucking light on?”

Andre chuckled and then, after a moment, a light came on in the den, in the kitchen, and then finally, in the hallway where Kent was sitting on the floor. “Better?” Andre’s voice asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Kent grumbled. “You at Gina’s?”

“No. On roof. Sunrise soon, wanted to be closer.”

Kent slipped his fingers through Kit’s fur again, letting the motion settle him down again. “Yeah, okay.”

“So what mistake?”

“Forget it, man.”

“I mean, you know I can dig it out of head…”

“Yeah, I fucking know, but you’re not a total fucking dick, so you won’t,” Kent answered in his head.

“…Kent? You hear me?”

“Yeah, man, but fucking drop it, okay?” Kent asked, sighing aggressively.

“You want I come down and cuddle?”

In spite of his shitty mood, Kent had to smile at that. “Are you even corporeal yet, man?”

Andre giggled. “Okay no, not good cuddling maybe, but—”

“—you’re good, bro, seriously. I’m just gonna go to bed. Thanks though.” Kent scratched gently under Kit’s chin and ignored the buzzing of his phone in his pocket.

“Suit yourself, Parser,” Andre said, and Kent could hear and absolutely did not appreciate the judgmental tone of it. “I’m not judge you,” he continued, “I’m just say.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kent muttered, as he carefully removed Kit from his lap and then hoisted himself up again. “You’re always just saying, man.”

His phone buzzed again when he put it on his bedside table to charge, and against his better judgment, he picked it back up to scroll through the few missed texts from Jeff.

**Potential Bae 4:12 AM: hey bud, idk what happened there, but I really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I had an awesome time tonight with you and I’d really like to see you again.**

**Potential Bae 4:13 AM: but if you don’t want to, no hard feelings. I don’t wanna like pressure you or anything.**

**Potential Bae 4:13 AM: just know that I’m here if you want me to be. I’d love to get a chance to take you on a real date sometime.** ****


	3. Chapter Two

“See, there,” Kent pointed at the computer screen, “you fudged the formula. You just have to find your—oh, balls.”

The office was enveloped in darkness again for a moment as whatever had made everyone with an office along the outer glass walls scream bloody murder took another pass by. “ _Oh God, what is that thing?”_ someone yelled.

“ _It’s heading this way again!”_

“Balls, balls and more fucking balls,” Kent muttered to himself again, as he saved Henning’s document for him and then crouched down to where Henning was now hiding underneath his desk. “We’ll figure it out later, okay?”

“Oh-ok-k-kay,” Henning stammered. “Wh-what are you—where are you going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kent called behind him, as he dashed out of Henning’s office. He ran past screaming employees and ducked quickly into his own office. He took a seat in his desk chair and slid his fingers under the desktop until he found a button hidden in the back. He pressed it and his weapons chest slowly rose up from the safe in the middle of the floor. “Scraps, buddy, you online?”

Andre’s voice answered him, “Yes, but I am not—”

“—Gina’s gotta stop wearing you the fuck out, bud,” Kent chirped, as he strapped his bow and arrows onto his back. “One of these days I’m really gonna need you to be a full body in battle.”

“Cannot help my charms, Kent,” Andre replied smugly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kent replied fondly, as he picked up his favorite gun and slid it into its holster. “All right, so what am I dealing with and how do I get out there without everybody seeing me?”

“Building power will go out in ninety seconds. I will light emergency path for you, take left out of office. Must go fast though, Carlson is in office now debating to join fray.”

Kent rolled his eyes. Carly was such a fucking douche—way too cowardly to fight unless he was sure he’d win and also just generally annoying. “Can you lock him in?”

“Can try. You know he may punch through,” Andre answered, snickering a little bit. “Bust hand though, very funny.”

“Yeah, yeah, hilarious,” Kent replied, as he stood at the door and waited for the power to go out. “And the thing?”

“Is creature. Big wings, leathery like bat, underbelly soft, vulnerable. Looks like one of Warlock’s,” Andre explained. “Okay, and there is power—go quick!”

Kent ran left out of his office, down the path Andre had lit for him, and made it to the stairwell without detection. “Okay, awesome, bud, thanks. Keep eyes on it, I’m almost outside,” he said, as he ran down the stairs. He burst out onto the street just in time to hear the creature shriek as it dove down towards the Strip and skimmed through the Bellagio fountains. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

“Told you is huge, Parser!” Andre said.

“Have they been getting bigger lately, or is that just me?” Kent asked, as he surveyed the creature’s flight pattern. It looked like it was going to dive back down again, so he grabbed his bow, notched one of his exploding arrows, and aimed.

“With Warlock, you know, always compensating, heh heh,” Andre replied. “Also aim towards back of belly near groin, I think.”

“Got it,” Kent replied. The creature had drifted up higher and seemed to be circling almost lazily over the Strip. “One or two, you think, bud?”

“Two to be sure,” Andre answered.

Kent drew back, but before he could unleash the first arrow, a tall blond glasses-wearing bro of a dude came running up alongside him, clutching a huge pair of noise-cancelling headphones and grinning like he had no idea that Las Vegas was on the verge of destruction (as per the fucking usual lately, _Jesus_ ). “Dude, what the fuck?” Kent asked, dropping his bow in surprise as Broheim tossed the headphones at him.

“Pop those puppies on, my good dude, so I can do my thing,” said Broski.

The creature shrieked again and started another nosedive. Kent narrowed his eyes and threw the headphones around his neck, before bending down to pick up his bow again. “Dude, you have like two seconds to get the fuck out of—”

“—my guy, that actually _is_ Warlock up there,” Bromeo interrupted, “so we can’t totally take him out, you know?”

“Oh,” Kent said, flicking his eyes up to watch as the creature-that-might-have-been-Warlock flew sharply upwards again, out of the path of Vegas Vic. “Hey Scrappy?”

Andre answered, “Yes, Kent, appears actually to be Warlock. Sorry!”

“No worries, just have to, um…”

Broington Esquire tapped the headphones around Kent’s neck and said, “I’m gonna stun him, okay? Just get the headphones on.”

“Parser, I would do—this is Soundwave,” said Andre.

“Soundwa—oh yeah, okay,” Kent said, quickly fumbling the headphones on. At his side, Soundwave planted his feet, turned to give Kent an unnecessary wink, and then opened his mouth and let out a scream that Kent could feel vibrating throughout his entire body, though he could only hear what he imagined was just a fraction of its power.

The creature faltered up in the air, seeming to curl in on itself a little, before it began to free-fall towards the Strip.

“Oh, shit, shit!” Kent cried out. “It’s gonna fucking take out half the Wynn, dude!” He glanced at Soundwave, who didn’t look at all concerned about the massive damage to property and civilians he’d just caused. “Dude!” Kent slapped at his arm.

Soundwave turned and mouthed what looked like _no worries_ , and then pointed up towards the sky, where, sure enough, the creature had slowed down substantially in its descent. Beneath the creature, arms stretched up in support, but not actually holding onto the thing, was Jeff Troy. Soundwave tapped Kent on the arm to get his attention again and mouthed _air currents_ , which—yeah, Kent fucking got it, okay?

Together, they watched as Jeff brought the creature down safely in the middle of the street, and, as Kent and Soundwave jogged over, they saw the creature transform back into a tall and impressively-bearded white guy who, as soon as Jeff got him bound up in that super hot, but showoffy tornado thing of his, woke up and started ranting. Or at least, Kent assumed he was ranting—it took him a moment to remember that he still had the noise-cancelling headphones on.

“— _vous allez payer pour ça, salauds_ ,” Warlock snarled, shoving out at the tornado walls ineffectually.

“You’re probably better off keeping those things on.”

Kent turned to Jeff and shrugged. “Yeah, whatever, I only know enough French to ask for a bathroom, a beer, and what time the hockey game’s on. No big.”

Jeff chuckled at that. “I can’t believe I didn’t get a chance to ask you what your favorite sport was,” he said.

“I can,” Kent replied dismissively, before turning to Soundwave. “Thanks for the assist, bud.”

Soundwave laughed brightly and bro-slapped Kent on the back. “You’re funny, dude. My man Swoops here should be thanking _me_ for the assist, which I know he will do, because he’s a good-ass dude who will…hmmm, grab a friend a six pack?”

“Something crafty, or am I going to have to stoop and buy some of that piss-water you and your college buds like?” Jeff asked, a somewhat pained expression on his stupidly-handsome face.

“I guess it can be crafty. I know you’ve got a rep to protect.”

Jeff clapped his hands together in front of his chest and took a slight bow before immediately thrusting his hands out again to make sure the tornado held. “I’m gonna hang here for a bit and make sure Warlock gets picked up by the proper authorities, but, uh…Kent, could we maybe, I mean, only if you wanted to, but would you maybe want to go with me—”

“—I gotta get back to work, probably,” Kent interrupted. It sounded hella weak even to his own ears, and he hoped it didn’t show on his face both how very little he wanted to go back to work and how very much he wanted to go with Jeff to get beer or whatever.

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” Jeff said.

Kent tried very, very hard to ignore the puppy pout that Jeff probably wasn’t aware was really weakening Kent’s resolve. “Cool…uh, yeah, good work out here, guys. Really good stuff,” Kent said, as he disentangled himself from Soundwave’s arm around his shoulders. He backed away a little, threw up finger guns that he immediately regretted, and said, “Later days.”

“Later Kent,” Jeff replied, a wistful look on his face.

Soundwave raised a hand and waved as well, looking puzzled, and then Kent turned and booked it back down the street in the direction of his office building. ****  
** **

** ** ****  
** **

The rest of the afternoon was basically a wash, as Kent’s entire office was mostly just abuzz with gossip about the attack. Kent tried to keep to himself in his own office, but after the fifth interruption, he gave up and played a few rounds of Minesweeper until the clock struck five, at which point he packed up all his shit and got the hell out of there, managing to avoid everyone with some judicious use of Andre’s power.

“Soundwave is wait for you, Parser,” Andre said, once Kent was out on the street again, trying to duck through the tourists and bystanders all also talking about the attack.

“What?”

“Soundwave? Is wait for you?”

“No,” Kent said, confused, “I mean, I heard you the first time, but like…what?”

Before Andre could answer though, the bro himself peeled off from the building across the way that he’d apparently been waiting by and jogged over. “Hey, man,” he greeted brightly.

“Uh, hi,” Kent replied. He glanced around to make sure that no one was listening to him, and added, “Look, bud, I’m not really looking for—”

“—I came for my headphones,” Soundwave interrupted, good-naturedly.

“Oh!” Kent blushed a little. “Sorry, yeah, I didn’t even, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Soundwave chirped, “you ran off so fast after that epic crushing of Warlock, I didn’t get a chance to grab them from you.”

“Right, yeah,” Kent replied, glancing around furtively again, “uh, keep that shit down, though, man!” He dropped into a crouch to open up his backpack where he’d stashed the headphones.

“Ha, yeah, sorry,” Soundwave said, “sometimes I have trouble _controlling the volume of my voice_.”

“Dude!” Kent couldn’t help laughing though. Soundwave was making a goofy-ass face and elbowing the air beside him like a person, like _get it, get it, see what I did there?_ and it was stupid, but also pretty fucking hilarious. Kent liked a bro with a dopey sense of humor.

“No, man, I get it—don’t wanna deal with the fame,” Soundwave then added.

“More like the infamy,” Kent replied, standing back up and handing over the headphones.

Soundwave nodded his thanks. “So you wanna grab some pizza or something?” he asked, falling into step with Kent as he started in the direction of where he’d parked his car that morning.

“Uh…I was just gonna go—”

“—pizza sounds good, Parser. I can join too,” Andre interrupted.

“Holy fuck!” Soundwave swore, as Andre flickered into view suddenly on the other side of Kent.

Kent frowned at him. “Dude, seriously?”

Andre shrugged, grinning widely. “I’m hungry and pizza is delicious.”

“Where’d you come from, bro?”

“From the ether,” Kent said dismissively, as he hooked an arm around Andre’s neck.

Soundwave snickered at that. “Like from Thor?”

“Thor’s fake, bro,” Kent replied. “No, my buddy Scraps here kind of, uh, actually I don’t super know how to explain it.”

“We can discuss over pizza,” Andre said decisively. “You and me and Adam.”

“Who’s Adam?”

“Dude, me. My, like, birth name isn’t _Soundwave_ ,” said apparently-Adam. He held out his hand and Kent took it—Adam had a seriously firm handshake…Jesus, those hands were giant. “Adam Birkholtz, pleased to meet you, Ace.”

“Kent Pars—whoa, is that what…is that my, uh—”

“Yeah, bud, you’re The Ace. Everybody knows that,” Adam replied. They’d managed to reach the car, and Adam jogged around to get shotty, even though permanent shotty was Andre’s when he had a body. “Well, everybody in the biz knows that, anyway, as much as you’re like Mr. Lone Wolf or whatever.”

“I’m not a lone wolf,” Kent said quietly, as he got the car running.

“Parser has me, of course, but yes, Parser also likes to work alone.”

“What’s the deal with that, Parser?” Adam asked, leaning forward to fiddle with the radio.

“What the fuck, dude, we just fucking met,” Kent spat, peeling out of his parking spot to a lot of angry honking that he didn’t give a single fuck about at the moment.

“Unlock tragic backstory after pizza, maybe,” said Andre, though his normal chirping tone didn’t quite come across.

“No worries, guys, seriously,” Adam said, more soberly. He sat back and folded his hands across his stomach. “I’m not trying to pry. My boy Swoops just said you guys really fuckin’ rocked it out together a few weeks ago with that robbery attempt, and then I realized that’s the only time I’ve ever heard of the Ace not going solo, you know? But like seriously no biggie, none of my beeswax.”

Kent didn’t know how to respond to that, whether the part about him being apparently kind of well-known in the community of people trying to keep Las Vegas from being destroyed by a bunch of powered bad guys or the part where Jeff had been _talking about him_ , and so, perhaps smartly, he chose to just shrug his shoulders and concentrate on driving a relative stranger and an only-sometimes-corporeal intelligence to his favorite pizza place.

** **

“Pineapple on pizza is a fucking crime against humanity, and you cannot convince me otherwise, thank you very much and good fucking night,” Adam practically bellowed, before laughing brightly, bent over and slapping at his knees.

It was more than possible that Soundwave was hammered, and a hammered Soundwave apparently didn’t have a ton of control over his power. Kent’s ears definitely throbbed a little in sympathy, and he raised a hand to rub as discreetly as he could at them.

“Oh shit!” Adam said, then continued in a stage-whisper, “Sorry, sorry, I’m trying to shhhhhhh.”

“Dude, you’re such a lightweight,” Kent teased, as Andre came around for the assist, getting Adam’s arm around his broad shoulders and helping him to the door of Kent’s place. “What are you, like, six-four?”

“Yes!” Adam whisper-screamed. “I’m exactly six-four, you—you’re—you’re so _accurate_.”

“Oh my god,” Kent groaned, as Andre and Adam both started laughing at that unbelievably stupid pun. “What the hell have I done in a past life to deserve friends like these?”

Adam immediately stood up straight, grinning brightly and shrugging Andre’s arm off him inadvertently. “Oh good, we’re friends now?”

Kent felt himself blush, which was weird and embarrassing, but Adam looked so earnest, despite being drunk, and like…well, okay, so yeah, Kent couldn’t exactly remember the last time he’d just, like, bonded with a random Super (excluding Jeff, of course, because that was completely fucking different, and also…he was not thinking about Jeff anymore). It wasn’t that he didn’t have friends either; he absolutely had tons of friends, but most of them didn’t know that Kent was more than just an accountant because it wasn’t really something he could talk about without possibly ending up in jail for being a vigilante. (You never really knew who you could trust these days—anti-Supers could be anyone…)

“I mean, whatever man, you’re cool,” Kent answered, hoping he didn’t sound too lame.

“Awwwww, you’re cool too, bro,” Adam replied, surging forward and throwing his arms around Kent in a hug that felt, _goddamn_ , really, really fucking good. Adam’s arms were big and warm and he hugged with his whole body, and it was just really nice. “Swoops said you were funny and cool and all that.”

Fuck.

Kent carefully disentangled himself from the hug, straightened out his shirt, and said, totally and completely smoothly, “So you’re really good friends with Jeff, then?”

“Yeah, we’ve been buds a while. You run into a dude a few times saving the world, you kinda bond, you know?”

Andre snickered, “Parser doesn’t know, remember? Lone wolf, awoooooo!”

“Can it, you,” Kent spat.

“I’m just joke, you know I love you, Kent—stop, don’t open door!” Andre’s voice flipped from teasing to urgent on a dime. He stepped forward, elbowed Kent and Adam out of the way, and pressed his hands carefully to the door. “Kent, someone has been here,” he said seriously.

“Shit,” Kent said, as he bent down and grabbed the knife he always kept hidden in his sock-holster. He flipped it once to get into position and braced himself for an attack.

At his side Adam stood up tall, seeming to sober easily, glanced over and nodded that he was ready for whatever might be waiting for them on the other side.

Andre opened the door and slipped inside with Kent and Adam on his heels. He stopped just inside the door though and murmured, “Kit is hiding under bed. Safe.”

Kent let out a breath of relief. “Any other warm bodies?” he asked quietly.

Andre closed his eyes and then shook his head. “No…no, is good. Whoever was here is gone. But place is…” He trailed off and gestured with both hands, one towards the living room on one side and the other to the kitchen. The three separated, and Kent saw exactly what Andre meant within a moment.

The kitchen had been completely ransacked—shelves pulled out and dumped on the floor, cabinets open and dishes spilled out. Even the takeout menus and calendar that he kept on the refrigerator door had been shoved onto the floor. It was a mess, but a mess that didn’t seem to have much purpose.

“The kitchen look like shit?” Adam called from presumably the living room.

“Yeah,” Kent called back, then went to see for himself. “Fuck me, I loved that couch.” ****  
** **

“I can put back together,” came Andre’s voice from Kent thought maybe upstairs. “Also Kit needs cuddling.”

“Bring her down if you can, otherwise I’ll come up in a bit,” Kent replied tiredly, continuing to survey the damage. It literally looked like a tornado had been through the living room, but maybe a tornado full of knives or something because the couch cushions had been ripped up and there were long tears in the carpet as well.

“What did you do, man?”

Kent looked over, and Adam was standing in the connected dining room by the table, looking down at something there. “Me? I didn’t do shit,” Kent replied, though he couldn’t quite muster up the correct level of defensiveness to make it snap.

“Well, you got her attention anyway,” Adam said, picking something up off the table.

“What?” Kent asked. “Got who’s attention?”

Adam turned and held out what looked like a business card. It was blue with a gold symbol he couldn’t quite make out from that far away, though it did kind of look familiar if he thought about it for a moment. “The Falconer,” Adam then answered, after a moment. “Georgia Martin.”

Kent’s knees buckled and he hit the carpet with a dull thud. He couldn’t hear anything over the rushing sound in his ears, barely noticed the way Adam dropped in front of him, hands fluttering near Kent’s face and at his shoulders like he wanted to touch but didn’t know if he should.

“Parser, is okay. You want Adam’s help?”

Andre’s voice cut through the buzzing in his head and Kent managed a nod, at which point Adam’s arms came back around Kent in a hug. It was too much, and he flinched, but then after a moment, he just let himself feel, tried to breath deeper, sank into it a little. It felt good actually. Adam gave great fucking hugs.

“Good, Parser, you’re doing good. You know how to breathe, follow mine, in two three four out two three four, very good, you remember.”

The hug lasted a really long time, and by the end of it, Kent was tired and really fucking embarrassed and just wanted to lay down on his fucking couch except that—

“I fixed couch, Kent,” Andre said softly. “But cannot cuddle anymore…too much energy, you know…”

Blinking a little and pulling out of Adam’s arms, Kent rubbed at his face and sighed aggressively. “It’s okay, bud, you did real good. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Parser,” Andre’s voice said. “I’m go wait for sunrise, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Kent pushed himself up, avoiding Adam’s eyes, even though he could definitely feel the weight of his questioning gaze heavy on the back of his neck, and went over to sink into the Scraps-repaired couch. “Sorry, uh, that was…weird I bet,” he then said, quietly, still not looking up. ****  
** **

“Nope, not weird at all, man,” Adam said, sounding much more like he had at the beginning of their pizza-and-beer adventure. “I’ve got this buddy that—well, actually not really my place to tell, but yeah, nope, not weird at all. Sometimes shit freaks us out, you know?”

“Yeah,” Kent answered dully. “But, uh, thanks for the…hug.” He barely managed to get the last word out, shame filling him again.

“Hugs are the best, bro,” Adam said, flopping down on the couch next to Kent and throwing an arm around his shoulders. “And since we’re buds now, you’re welcome to any and all the hugs you ever want.”

That managed to pull a huff of a laugh out of Kent, and he let himself fall back into the cradle of Adam’s arm. “I’ll try not to take advantage of that overly generous offer.”

“Anytime, man, I mean it,” Adam promised. “Also, so, like feel free to tell me to fuck right the hell off, but…you’ve got some beef with the Falconer, yeah?”

A laugh bubbled up from Kent’s chest that sounded hysterical to his own ears. Like—talk about the fucking understatement of the year. Although, actually?

“It’s not her…I don’t even know her,” Kent said. “It’s…it’s who she took from me.”


	4. Chapter Three

Andre kept flickering in and out of focus, and Kent could hear his frustration in the way English all but deserted him entirely. “Snow um showers, no, covers, ah— _slunce_ …no, fuck, what is—” he cut off on a groan and completely disappeared for a solid sixty seconds before flickering back in.

“Buddy, it’s cool,” Kent said, jogging a little faster despite the extremely limited visibility. “Save your strength for telling me what the fuck to do, okay?”

“Yes, fine, arggggh!” Andre growled, then disappeared again. “Okay, okay, large group of tourists trapped by blizzard fifty meters ahead. Blizzard seems to be cover. Not sure for what yet. Mr. Snow circles up in sky, held up by…oh.”

“Oh?” Kent stopped running and swiped his hand over his face to clear away the thick snowflakes that kept gathering in his eyelashes. “That didn’t sound like a good ‘oh’.”

“Is held in flight by murder of crows,” Andre’s voice sounded quietly in Kent’s ear.

Which meant—Mr. Snow had joined the Falconer’s league, which also meant that this whole mess just got a lot stickier, and which unfortunately meant that the pressure headache that had been building at the base of Kent’s skull since he’d awakened that morning seemed to grow into a full-blown migraine in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck,” Kent said, redundantly probably.

“Yes, fuck. Fuck and shit and balls too,” said Andre.

“Well, um,” Kent said, “let’s just focus on the immediate problem, I guess.”

“Okay,” Andre agreed. “You cannot shoot out of sky with Falconer birds, but you can disarm Snow. Reason for blizzard still unclear—oh good, Swoops incoming.”

“Jeff’s here?” But it became obvious only a moment later, when the rush of snow that had been constantly blowing into Kent’s face eased back, creating a path in front of him where at least he could see where he was going. Kent looked up and the snow receded away again, leaving him a clear path of vision to see Jeff hovering in the air. “Hey Jeff,” Kent called up. “Thanks for the, uh…yeah.”

“No problem, bud. Can you knock him down from here?” Jeff called down.

Kent scoffed. “Dude, you know I can. That’s, like, my jam, you know?”

“Thought your jam was ‘90s Britney?” Jeff teased.

“A man can have two jams, Jefferson.”

Jeff grinned down at him, and Kent felt the warmth rising in his cheeks despite the frigid wind blowing all around him. “Two or three or four jams, even.”

“Flirt later!” Andre interrupted, though he sounded amused and Kent was really going to smack him the next time he became a body. “Swoops, Ace cannot actually knock Snow out of sky because Falconer birds protect, but can disarm so blizzard ends.”

“Can I get in there and take him out?”

“Not sure—can maybe blow one or two birds off course but…”

“…but her control over them is too strong,” Jeff finished for Andre. “Okay, so what’s the play, Kent?”

“I’ll shoot to stop the blizzard. You, um, I guess just make sure he doesn’t…die?” Kent offered, as he notched an arrow that would emit a rope upon contact that would tie Mr. Snow’s hands and muffle his power. Jeff’s lips curved up into a smirk, and Kent could basically hear the chirp before Jeff even opened his mouth. “Get your head out of the gutter, _Swoops,_ ” Kent interrupted, then bit down hard on his lip to keep from grinning openly.

“Get your head in the game, Ace,” Jeff responded, his smirk softening into that stupid, pretty smile that really did make Kent want to put his own mouth on it. But also…no, not that. He wasn’t going to—they weren’t going to do that.

“Any time now, Parser,” said Andre.

Grateful for the reminder, Kent nodded sharply, took a deep breath in and out to center himself, and then raised his bow and arrow to the sky. He could see Mr. Snow clearly now, thanks to Jeff’s pushing aside the snow-shower aside for him, as well as the flock, or wait, ugh, _murder_ of the Falconer’s crows keeping him aloft in the sky. Then, he loosed the arrow, followed its path up and arcing toward the birds. It sliced easily through a tiny opening between a pair of crows and struck Mr. Snow. The ropes burst from the capsule and wound around his hands, and, within seconds, the blizzard slowed and faded, leaving only heaps of snow on the ground behind. The crows quickly circled close around Mr. Snow and then flew off with their bundle of bad guy to lord only knows where.

“Call that one a win, I guess,” said Jeff, as he touched down with a shushing sound into the mound of snow at Kent’s side. “Or a draw, maybe.”

Kent snorted. “Yeah, a draw, I guess.”

“You know, as bad as Mr. Snow is,” said Andre, humor back in his tone, “is nice to have snow in desert sometime.”

“Fine, we’ll give him a call for Hanukkah this year,” Kent replied, only barely managing not to sound annoyed. Honestly, fights like this one were the worst—super unsatisfying. Obviously, yes, he was happy that he’d stopped the bad guy from doing his thing, but they had no idea why Mr. Snow had even been out and about in the first place _and_ he’d technically gotten away with it, since there hadn’t been an opportunity to nab him and get him locked up.

Jeff gave a gusty sigh as well and put his hands on his hips, staring up at the sky. “So you two don’t know what that was about either?” he asked. “I mean, me and the guys just kinda looked out the window and saw the snow coming down.”

“No—something is—maybe—block me? Not sure,” Andre’s voice answered slowly. “Not good though.”

“Not good at all,” Kent said softly, dropping his own gaze from the sky and turning to face Jeff. “You’re, uh, friends with Adam. I’m sure he must have, um…”

Jeff frowned at that. “He mentioned that one of Georgia’s boys had paid you a visit, but he didn’t really go into details,” he replied. “You don’t, uh, have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.”

Kent very much did not want to, but unfortunately, considering the very unwelcome fact that Mr. Snow had obviously found his way into Georgia’s organization and the even more unwelcome fact that something was blocking Scraps from getting any information about it, he figured that he was going to have to explain at least a little bit.

Or, he could lie.

“She wants me for her team, I’m sure. I mean,” Kent said quickly, looking down at the ground, “I’ve got a very fucking useful power, and I’m sure she’d rather I use it for her than against her, you know?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed. “I mean…um, who—who wouldn’t want you?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Kent blushed immediately, feeling it rise up from his chest, hot and flustered all over. The smile tugged at his lips until he was grinning bright and even a little embarrassed with it. It was—fuck, Jeff was just so…charming. And hot, fucking hell, he was so fucking hot too. He was hot and charming and really nice and he like, against all odds, seemed to really like Kent and clearly didn’t have a problem with the fact that Kent had run off after they’d first met without a single explanation for his oddball behavior.

_Would it really be so bad?_

“Would what be so bad?” Jeff asked, an adorable confused expression on his face.

“ _Shut up,_ _Andre_ ,” Kent hissed and swung out at the air, even though he knew Andre probably wasn’t anywhere near him anymore. The husky giggle that came from several feet to the left of Jeff confirmed that fact, and Kent groaned, as he raised his hands to cover his burning hot face. “Never mind,” he said to Jeff.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Jeff said.

Kent could hear the smile in it, and it probably should have pissed him off further, but instead, it settled him a little bit. He peeked out between his fingers, took a deep breath to steel himself, and then said, “Youwannagetcoffeeorsomething?”

Jeff chuckled. “What was that?”

Pained, Kent lowered his hands and said, slower, “You wanna go get coffee or something sometime?”

“Thought you’d never ask, bud,” Jeff replied, beaming.

** ** 

Perhaps because of all the snow that had been around, but then melted almost immediately in the heat of the Vegas desert, Kent had decided that he really wanted and therefore absolutely deserved some ice cream. The blast of air conditioning that hit Kent in the face once inside _Annie’s_ was equally as welcome as the “Bro, hey, over here!” he received from Adam, who waved obnoxiously from a small table in the corner he was sharing with an impressively-cheek-boned bro with close-cropped black hair and salmon shants.

“Hey nerd,” Kent greeted, after he’d ordered a scoop of cookie dough in a waffle cone. He dropped into a seat on the bench across from Adam and the other guy. “Was it the snow?”

Adam laughed and held out his spoon, replying, “Clearly you had the same idea, man.”

“Great minds and whatnot,” Kent agreed. “Also, hey, hi, I’m Kent.”

“Oh yeah, duh, sorry,” said Adam, hurriedly swallowing the bite of his sundae he’d shoved in his mouth. “Kentington V. Parson, this is my literal favorite person on this or any other earth, Justin. Rans, this is my new bro of bros, Kent.”

“Good to meet you, man,” said Justin (or Rans, maybe?), extending his hand over the table to shake. “Holster’s told me, like, all the best things about you.”

Kent really wished he could say the same at the moment, although he did definitely remember the amount of times over the last couple weeks that Adam had said something along the lines of ‘dude, Ransom would love this’ when they’d hung out together. Oh, duh, _Rans_. “Oh, so you’re Ransom,” Kent put together, grinning. “It’s really good to meet you too.”

“Andre?” Adam then called out, glancing up in the air and around the shop. “You here, bud?”

“He’s recharging his batteries,” Kent said, sobering a little. “The run-in with Snow really did a number on him this time.”

“Ugh, I fuckin’ can’t stand Mr. Snow,” Justin said, as he dug into the sundae that apparently, Kent realized, he and Adam were sharing. Which…huh. He had been positive that Adam was straight, but maybe...

“Kent?”

Kent shook his head a little to clear it and glanced between the two of them, blushing a little at being caught out daydreaming. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you’d come up against him a lot?” Justin repeated, a little smile on his face.

“Nah, only twice before,” Kent answered, digging his spoon into his cup to get out a big chunk of dough. “Never like today, though. It seemed kind of, idk, out of character for him? Like he really doesn’t do his thing for shits and giggles. Although,” he lowered his voice and leaned across the table, “he wasn’t alone out there.”

“Fuck!” Adam said it emphatically enough to rattle the dishes on the table, then winced and continued more quietly, “Shit sorry, but that is like seriously not good news.”

“I know,” Kent replied, nodding. “We stopped the blizzard obviously, but it might not have mattered. I think it was just a, I don’t know, distraction or something.”

“We?” Justin asked, a look on his face more knowing than Kent thought he had a right to for having just met the guy.

“You and Andre?” Adam added, and fuck, but he had the knowing look on his face too.

Kent wanted to be angry, but still, he couldn’t help the grin that stretched his lips, even as he tried to tamp down the giddy feeling in his chest at the reminder that he’d asked to go on a date with Jeff. “Yeah, uh, and,” he answered, looking down into his ice cream cup and pretending he wasn’t totally blushing again, “Swoops was there too.”

“Noice,” Justin said, exactly at the same time as Adam said, “S’wawesome.” They both grinned at each other and fist-bumped, and then Adam turned back to Kent and said, “I mean…I bet that was…cool. You two…fighting crime together…and whatnot.”

“Be a little more transparent next time,” Kent said, with a groan. “Yes, fine, I, uh, asked him out or whatever.”

Adam opened his mouth, but Justin quickly reached a hand over and clapped it tight to seal off whatever horrifying sound Adam had been about to make and therefore likely deafen the entire ice cream shop. “You know, I had a feeling that’s how it was gonna go today,” Justin said. “I mean, it was more likely that he’d ask you again and you’d run off, like that was actually _most_ of the options floating around, but I gotta admit that my fave outcome was this one, and I’m really fuckin glad you did, bro—dude, quit licking me!”

“I’m really glad too,” Adam added, as Justin groaned and wiped his hand off on Adam’s shoulder. “Now maybe Jeff will stop pine-moping around the house.”

Justin laughed at that. “Maybe now he’ll actually do the friggin dishes instead of sighing and staring wistfully off into the distance like one of those poets of yore!”

“Dude, what even—Kent, uh,” Adam cocked his head, expression going from chirpy to concerned easily, “you good, man?”

Kent wasn’t sure what his face must have been doing, but it couldn’t have been very pleasant. “You, um,” he started, swallowing hard against a sudden and very unwelcome weird clench in his throat, “you guys live together?”

“Oh,” Justin said, exchanging glances with Adam briefly that Kent tried not to immediately read something horrible into, “yeah, us two, Swoops, a couple other Super buds. We share a house. It’s no big deal or anything."

“Yeah, man, I thought you knew that?” Adam added.

“Guess it never came up, really,” Kent replied. He wasn’t entirely sure why it seemed to bother him though. In fact, there wasn’t at all a reason for the fact that a bunch of superheroes all seemed to live together in a house to bother him. He certainly didn’t want to share a house with a bunch of people. Kent liked his space. Andre was more than enough of a roommate, really. “I mean, I knew you guys were friends,” he continued, trying to inject a little levity back into the conversation. “Tell me more about the pining though…that’ll def help with the fucking nerves I already have about this friggin coffee date.”

Justin opened his mouth, but, from the jostling Kent sensed under the table, must have been warned away from whatever it was by a swift kick in the ankle or something by Adam. He then smiled and said, “Definitely can do, my man. Literally the other day? I caught him in the basement shooting darts—my boy Jeffrey _hates_ darts.”

“Ha,” Adam chimed in, “yeah totally. The darts are too small for him to be able to control too much with the air currents, so he always ends up blowing everything off course. It’s _hilarious_.”

Kent smiled softly at that. It was kind of hilarious…and pretty fucking cute too.

** **

“Bro, you need, like, better security, seriously,” Adam said, arms folded over his chest and shaking his head.

Kent was still trying to catch his breath, but Justin sighed and answered him, “Dude, lay off, maybe?”

“What, I’m just saying, I haven’t known Ace for more than a month, but he’s been broken into fucking _twice_ in that time,” Adam said, as he slid a foot out to nudge his toe into the passed out form of the tall brunet white guy wearing the now-familiar but still-tacky jumpsuit with the blue and gold domino mask that had been lying in wait in Kent’s hallway for them.

“Hello Parson,” the Falconer’s henchman had greeted them when Kent swung open the door. He’d waved jauntily and had been smiling sort of goofily, and really, honestly, if he hadn’t been obviously sent there to, well, kill Kent probably? Kent might have actually been attracted to him. (Fuck, he really did have a type, huh?) But then the henchman had proceeded to launch himself at Kent and tackle him.

He clearly hadn’t been expecting that other people were around, though, which was very bad form on the part of a henchman, so the tackle had only served to knock the pair of them back into Adam and Justin who were very sturdy and helped bounce the henchman and Kent forward again.

Two very exciting minutes later, the three of them had managed to knock the henchman out.

“It’s too bad Swoops isn’t here actually,” Justin said, as he knelt down on the other side of the henchman. “He could float this dude onto the couch for us.”

“What?” Kent asked, frowning.

“I mean, we’re not gonna like…leave him on the ground, are we?”

“Ugh, no, I guess not,” Kent answered, huffing in annoyance. He was the one who’d been tackled here; last he checked, providing comfort to possible murderers was not even remotely in a superhero’s job description. “Okay, fine, fine, help me hoist him up.”

Together, they lifted the henchman up and dropped him into the couch. Justin helpfully let them know that the only thing that would keep the henchman restrained long enough to get some answers out of him would be the zip-ties in Kent’s junk drawer in the kitchen, so Adam went over to grab them, and then they carefully tied the man’s hands together at the wrists and feet together at the ankles.

“Smelling salts would wake him,” Justin added, after several long moments of waiting for the man to stir.

“I can’t, like, smack him in the face or something?” Kent grumbled.

“You could, but most of the outcomes from that choice result in you getting concussed,” Justin replied seriously, “so…maybe don’t do that.”

“You could try licking his cheek,” Adam suggested, snickering a little bit.

It wasn’t _that_ funny, but after the absurdly long day, it managed to hit Kent right in the funny bone. He started giggling like mad then doubled over, clutching his stomach, as he laughed harder. Adam and Justin both started laughing as well, and after a few moments, the three of them had fallen into a pile together on the carpet, gasping for breath and leaning all over each other.

“Fuck me, you’re such a weirdo,” Kent said to Adam, shaking his head a little and smiling.

Adam shrugged and smiled back, almost a shy thing, and it warmed Kent up a little inside.

“Touching moment for you all?”

“Shit!” Kent cried out, scrambling to get back to his feet, at the same time that Adam and Justin also shouted an obscenity and pushed off each other to try to get back to a fighting stance.

The henchman just grinned at them all in turn; he looked…entirely too comfortable for a probable-murderer, who had super failed in his objective. To be fair, Kent supposed, he might just have been another warning from Georgia Martin, but he was still captured and tied up and things did not look all that good for him. Were their positions reversed—but screw that, Kent was not the type to make a stupid mistake and get himself _captured_.

“I’m not want to interrupt. Looks like fun!” he continued, when neither Kent, nor Adam and Justin made to say something. “But…I’m also not here to cause trouble. I’m come with message.”

“Sure, pal,” Kent said, finding his voice again. “I got the last fucking message your boss sent.”

The henchman shrugged his shoulders, still affable, still smiling. “Maybe it was not clear enough message since you not call, she says.”

“She and I don’t have anything to say to one another,” Kent spat, feeling his temper rising a little. He could feel Adam and Justin coming up closer behind him, literally having his back, which was nice—with Andre not currently online, Kent couldn’t be sure that someone else hadn’t also found his or her way into his place on the back of this henchman’s misstep…if it was a misstep.

The henchman cocked his head a little, eyes narrowing in consideration. “She says you will say that, but you are wrong, Kent Parson,” he continued. “Or, well…”

Kent knew what he was talking about—of course he knew. With an ice-cold certainty that felt like a literal chill down his spine, he knew exactly what the henchman was trying to insinuate. He also knew that he absolutely had to stand his ground. He was better than this. He had moved on. He was better now than he was as a dumb kid, and he had absolutely no reason to let the henchman get inside his head.

“You should,” Kent paused, swallowed hard against the lump that rose up swift and ugly in his throat, then continued again, “you should get the hell out of here. Tell your boss that I’m not interested.”

“Dude—”

“—bro, let him do this.”

The henchman grinned again, bright and wide and winning as ever. “You sure? You are…hmm, what was way of putting it…” he trailed off, but the smug smile couldn’t be disguised. “Sorry, sometimes my English isn’t perfect. Can’t remember the word.”

Kent whirled on Adam and Justin then. “Get him the fuck out of here. I don’t care what you do with him, but just get him the fuck out of my fucking house,” he bit out, trying like hell to keep from letting the wave of upset tear through him enough that they’d know he was moments from losing it. 

“Kent, I don’t know—”

“— _missed_!”

Kent froze.

“That was it,” the henchman went on, giddy with it. “You are _missed_.”

“What?” Kent asked, his voice all but giving out on him as he turned slowly back around.

“He _misses_ you,” the henchman said.

Kent felt those words throughout every single inch of his body—white-hot against the chill, sharp and stinging like the point of a knife. “He—” he swallowed again, fear and sadness in equal parts, “—he misses me?”

“Mmm,” the henchman acknowledged. “That is the message. If this time you are ready to hear.” Then, with a loud snap, the henchman pulled apart his hands and feet, breaking the ties, like he’d just been fucking waiting for the exact right moment. “I’m see myself out, Kent Parson,” he said, standing up and rolling out his shoulders. “Good fight though—your punch form needs working on, but not bad for sharpshooter.”

“Get the fuck out, dude,” Justin growled.

“I’m going, I’m going,” the henchman said, raising his hands up in a parody of surrender, that infuriating easy grin still on his lips. “Cards on table, _Ace_. I’m looking forward to work with you.”

“Get the fuck out, dude!” Adam echoed this time, his voice rising enough that Justin and the henchman both flinched.

Kent barely registered the pain—just dropped heavily onto the couch where the henchman had sat and let his head tip backwards until he was looking up at the ceiling. Several moments later, Adam and Justin sat down on either side of him.

Another several long moments later, after Kent felt he had been well and thoroughly judged by both of them (despite not looking at either of them—he could fucking _feel_ it, okay?), Adam said quietly, “So are we gonna talk about that, or…?”

“Nope,” Kent replied immediately, popping the “p” just to be a dick.

Adam (or maybe it was Justin) sighed.

“Okay, but like,” Justin said, “you’re definitely not staying here tonight…or possibly anymore. I want to run the numbers, but like…yeah. You’re not staying here tonight for fucking sure.”

“No,” Kent said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. Andre likely wasn’t going to back online until tomorrow anyway, and he…yeah, he really didn’t want to fucking stay in this goddamn house by himself.

“No, yeah, man, you’re definitely coming home to stay with us,” Adam insisted, letting his hand fall to Kent’s knee and squeezing a little.

Kent tilted his head just a little to look at Adam. He looked so fucking serious behind his glasses, all concerned and intense. Then, he tilted back up to look at the ceiling again. “Kinda weird to move in with a guy before I’ve even gone on one date with him, huh?” he asked, lip curving up in a tired smirk despite himself.

Justin snickered softly, a weary-sounding thing too. “We’ll lock Jeff in his room until you’re ready to go in there, man.”

Kent’s smirk curved up into a more genuine smile. “Okay,” he sighed out in a rush of breath, “sounds like a plan.”


End file.
